


Getting groceries

by Hibernia1



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Established Relationship, Everyday Stuff, Food, Groceries, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-14 11:55:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5742907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hibernia1/pseuds/Hibernia1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>House and Wilson get groceries. Nothing exciting, really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Getting groceries

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've been posting House fan fic on LJ before (ages ago), and now that I've got an AO3 account anyway, I decided to put them here, too.
> 
> Warnings: taking the name of Jesus in vain, bitching about healthy food, (very) vague references to suicide and gay bashing.

“What’s that you’re throwing in the cart?” House inquired, wrinkling his nose.

“Frozen broccoli,” Wilson answered without looking up from his list. He opened another door in the frozen food section and took out some bags of French fries. 

“That’s more like it,” House said, “shall I put the broccoli back where it belongs?”

“Leave the broccoli in the cart, House,” Wilson warned him. 

“But broccoli looks and smells and tastes like old socks,” House complained, earning a dirty look from a woman who was accompanied by a little boy that looked at House admiringly. 

“Please keep your opinions to yourself,” she told House, “I’m having a hard enough time getting my son to eat vegetables as it is. He doesn’t need to hear stuff like that from grown-ups.”

“He’s no grown-up,” Wilson hastened to assure her, pulling House’s cart away from her. Since House had put his cane in the cart to be able to push while leaning on it, he had no choice but to follow.

“That’s mean!” he told Wilson indignantly, “forcing me to go places like that, taking advantage of me being a cripple!”

“I learned from the best,” Wilson said, “and I’d prefer us not to be kicked out of yet another store.”

“We’ve only been kicked out of that one Walmart, and that was totally your fault. I told you I was feeling sick and you still made me go with you.”

“Feeling sick doesn’t justify throwing up in the middle of an aisle.”

“It so does!”

“Most people go to a restroom when they feel they’re actually going to vomit.”

“I’m not most people.”

“So I’ve noticed,” Wilson sighed. He loved doing things together as a couple so he’d been excited when House had grudgingly agreed to come grocery shopping with him that morning, but his enthusiasm was beginning to wane fast. House was bitching about practically every item Wilson put in the cart and the lady with the small son had been the third person he’d managed to piss off.

“You love me for being different,” House said, “what are you getting that cheese for?”

“To put on my bread,” Wilson said, “and before you start, I know you don’t like American cheese and that we’re almost out of the Dutch stuff. I’ll get some later this week, they don’t sell it here.”

“Dutch cheese’s the only cheese worth eating,” House announced.

“So you keep telling me,” Wilson said, walking on. House followed him, looking thoroughly bored. He started paying attention again when Wilson passed the baking supplies without even looking at them.

“Hey, don’t pass all the dough and stuff like that! I thought you said you were gonna bake cookies?” House asked.

Wilson stared at him in amazement. “I never said that,” he then said, “nor am I going to. I have lot of other things planned for today. You’ll have to make do with whatever’s still in the cookie jar.”

“But my leg hurts real bad,” House tried.

“No, it doesn’t,” Wilson answered. House had slept well that night and was moving pretty easily. He was pushing the cart while limping instead of hopping behind it on one leg like he’d do if he was in a lot of pain. Moreover, if his leg was really giving him trouble, he’d never have agreed to come to the store in the first place. 

“Besides,” Wilson added, “I never realized homemade cookies help for your leg pain. Does this mean I can stop writing prescriptions for Vicodin as long as I bake every day?”

“Aren’t you a comedian,” House said scornfully, “cookies help my appetite when the pain gives me nausea.”

“That’s a lie,” Wilson answered, “and even if it were true, I’m not eager to help your appetite when you feel sick. Contrary to popular belief, I don’t enjoy cleaning up vomit.”

“You’re cruel,” House stated.

“Yes,” Wilson agreed, “tell you what, though. If you promise to help me change the sheets of our bed later I will bake cookies.”

“That’s blackmail,” House said, “and I’m not falling for that. Unless it’s chocolate chip.”

“Sure,” Wilson said, getting the supplies. 

House smiled. He was more than willing to help change the sheets if that was all it took to get Wilson to bake. Hell, he’d even been willing to consider helping Wilson do the laundry. Cheerfully, he pushed his cart along.

Wilson smiled, too. As soon as House had mentioned wanting homemade cookies, he’d decided he’d bake some. He’d have preferred House having a sudden craving for something more healthy, but if cookies would make him happy, cookies he’d have. It was just much more fun to blackmail him into doing something in return, first.

House caught his eye and winked at him. “You’re right, it’s fun to get groceries together.”

“Yes, it’s a barrel of laughs,” Wilson said, “especially if you put that box of dinosaur cookies back. You don’t even like those.”

“They’re not to be eaten, they’re to play with.”

“I’m not buying food to play with.”

“Fine, I’ll pay for them myself.”

“Put them back, or I won’t bake.”

“Again with the blackmailing. You’re a nasty little guy, did you know that?” House asked, putting the cookies back.

“I used to be an innocent lamb before I met you,” Wilson said.

“I can’t believe you said that with a straight face,” House replied.

“Well, it’s true,” Wilson told him, “for years my mom was convinced I’d grow up to become a rabbi one day.”

“Seriously?”

“No.”

“Well, my mom was convinced I’d become a scientist,” House told him, “and my dad always thought I’d end up in jail, or killed, or both.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes.”

“When I went to med school, my dad hoped I’d become a psychiatrist,” Wilson said pensively.

“Because of your brother?” House guessed.

“No, because he thought I wouldn’t be able to cope with patients dying on me.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes.”

“But psychiatrists have patients committing suicide on them all the time. That must be even worse.”

“Not _all the time_! Besides, my dad didn’t think of that.”

“So what did he say when he found out you were going for oncology?”

Wilson slowly pulled House’s cart to the next aisle and didn’t answer. He checked his list and placed a large multipack of toilet paper in the cart. 

“Why don’t you get the stuff that has the little doggies?” House asked, “and what did your dad say when you announced you were going to be an oncologist?”

“It’s very expensive and also bad for the environment,” Wilson said, while reaching for a bottle of bleach.

“That’s what your dad said about oncologists? Wow, that must have been surprising,” House remarked. 

“My dad didn’t say all that much, actually,” Wilson answered, “I think he decided I knew what I was doing. Don’t comment on that.”

House grinned, but didn’t comment.

Wilson placed more items in the cart without watching House. When he did happen to look behind him he frowned. “House! Stop taking out groceries! We need all that!”

“We can’t possibly need this many rolls of paper towels. There’s just no way!”

“Leave them in the cart! It’s a buy 5, get the 6th for free thing!”

“Jesus, Wilson, between the two of us we make a zillion dollars a month, you don’t need to hunt for bargains,” House complained, “are we almost done? I’m getting tired.”

“You’re getting bored is what you mean,” Wilson told him.

“Well, yeah,” House admitted, “are we going somewhere fun after we’re done here? I could go for ice cream.”

“We can’t,” Wilson said, “we need to go home and get the frozen food in the freezer, or it’ll go bad. Also, if I’m gonna bake, I better start soon, or the cookies won’t be ready to cool off before dinner.”

House rolled his eyes. “You are such a housewife.”

“True,” Wilson admitted readily. He quickly looked around him and when he saw that nobody was watching them he kissed House on the cheek. 

House froze. “You kissed me in the middle of a grocery-store!” he said accusingly, “I can’t believe you did that. You’re the one that’s always warning me to keep a low profile so as not to provoke gay bashers and all that!”

“Yeah, but you just said it yourself – I’m House’s wife, so why shouldn’t I kiss my husband?”

House shook his head, smiling broadly. “And everybody thinks I’m the insane one.”

“That’s because I always wear a tie,” Wilson told him while heading towards the check-out lane.

“You can be insane and wear a tie, you know,” House replied, but Wilson corrected him: “that’s where you’re wrong, see. Lunatics never ties, it’s a rule.”

House followed him, still laughing silently. Wilson had indeed been right. It was fun to go grocery shopping together.


End file.
